Snapshots III
by theamck
Summary: There are more memories in Barbara's mental albums


Snapshots III

Barbara stretched in her bed, smiling as she thought of the many moments in their working life that had spilled over into something more personal. When a creep of a pathologist insulted her, she blew him off, but the hurt persisted, and Lynley read her well enough to know. He wanted to do something for her, and at first she was enraged that he had chosen to have her house painted so that it would sell more easily – but she forgave him, as she usually did, and they went on from there. When she was demoted, and found herself humiliated by being back in uniform, she thought this was something she would never forgive. But he confessed that, rather than betraying her, he had persuaded the Commissioner not to sack her, something he had not wanted her to know. She knew then that their partnership was as important to him as it was to her. The moment she cherished above all others was how he held her, soothed and comforted her after she faced down another gun. She kept the memory close of his kissing the top of her head while he held her tightly. These were the times she held onto, to feel the love she felt for him. She knew that in his own way, he loved her, but she was sure it was as a friend. He couldn't have memories of seeing her wrapped only in a towel, or less, as she had of him – in the caravan they'd shared, and in his room in Oxford, where he hadn't seemed to notice that she could see him through the glass door of the shower. She smiled, remembering how she couldn't stop looking.

The case that cemented their friendship even closer was the one with the Koran. It was also the time she saw his rage get out of control. She considered that it had something to do with Helen having lost the baby and left him, but she realized that she'd always known about the anger simmering within him. She could usually deflect it, stop him from behaving rashly, but this time it was a close call. And it led to his suspension, during which she had to work with other inspectors, missing him terribly. Even with a woman like Fiona Knight, who seemed to respect her, it wasn't the same, so she was delighted when he found her in Kent, where they worked together once again. But it was also the suspension that brought Helen back to him. Barbara had always respected their marriage, but she found it hard to like Helen. Even when she'd worked for the Met, Helen seemed judgmental and unsympathetic, always sure she was right. Barbara thought she also brought out a side to Tommy she disliked – his poncy superiority, a snideness, as about the caravan. She'd been happy with that tiny space, as trim as a boat, reminding her of happy times before her brother's illness had destroyed her family. She knew Lynley didn't share her fondness, but when she overheard him being snarky about it as he talked to Helen, she felt a sense of shame. Still, that case ended with him saving her life, and she knew he'd been terrified at the thought of losing her.

3. She tried, but couldn't forget hearing Helen complain about Lynley bringing her to the house to protect her. She had left the next morning, over his objections, but she couldn't stay knowing that Helen resented it. Helen frequently showed a lack of interest or concern about a murder victim, especially the time they had to come from some fancy dress-up event. Both in evening wear, Lynley even wearing a cape over his tux, and Helen in a low-cut gown. Helen was bored, impatient, eager to go home even if her husband had to stay at the murder scene, totally uninterested in the poor sod who'd been shot first in the knee so he could watch his killer delivering the fatal shot. Barbara wondered why she had become a psychologist, and what she was now teaching her students. Was there something wrong with empathy? But Helen had redeemed herself, taking a deep interest in the young Bosnian woman Peter Rooker had saved from being slaughtered in that war. Rooker was a photographer, shooting pictures of young Nina's family being murdered by their Serbian neighbors, when he found her. He'd brought her to London, trying to keep her safe. But she had seen one of those neighbors here, the one who had laughed as he killed her little brother. In the ultimate confrontation at Police HQ, Helen tried to keep the woman from shooting the killer, and was herself killed. Barbara tried to save her, but it was too late. That picture hurt still, as did the one where she watched Lynley at his wife's funeral, aching for his grief and guilt. She followed him to the park bench where he sat, immersed in his sorrows, and reached a figurative hand out to him. In the ensuing months, as he tried to drink himself into oblivion, she fought to save him, having to endure sarcasm and rejection. She willed herself to understand, to ignore her hurt feelings, to wait him out.


End file.
